


OCWatch Week 2017

by Throwaway9899



Category: Metal Gear, Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Diamond Dogs, F/M, Metal Gear Solid V: Ground Zeroes, OCWatch Week, OCWatch Week 2017, Overwatch x OC, Sahelanthropus, Talon Tracer, Tracer x OC, Tumblr dump, tracer - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 18:28:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9838022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Throwaway9899/pseuds/Throwaway9899
Summary: Just a reupload of my works that I did for OCWatch Week 2017 over on my Tumblr. There's seven chapters, along with a table of contents. The themes will be placed in the table of contents so you'll know what each chapter is about. For the most part they're all linked together, save for Chapter 4, which is AU stuff. Feel free to drop by my Tumblr, I take Reader Requests for Overwatch Imagines, it's under the same name that I use on everything else. (Story Complete)





	1. Table of Contents

Chapter 1: (Firsts) Theme A, First Meeting

Chapter 2: (Relationships) Theme A, Domestic

Chapter 3: (Silly) Theme A, Outfit Swap

Chapter 4: (Excitement) Theme B, AU

Chapter 5: (Listening) Theme B, Memories

Chapter 6: (Safety) Theme B, Promise

Chapter 7: (Growth) Themes A & B, Darkness and Recovery


	2. A Chance Meeting

David sighed as he tightened the grip on his pistol, cursing under his breath at how easily he found himself drawn into dangerous situations. He had hoped to unwind during his extended vacation away from his trigger-happy PF by relaxing in London. Live it up a little, have some good food, some excellent brews, hit the night life, maybe even enjoy the company of a lovely young woman. He took a swig of the bottle of vodka he had swiped from the counter just before the shooting started, if he wasn’t going to be able to relax, then he’d at least get some free alcohol out of it. Shards of the glass-coated bar rained onto him, the largest of which tore small holes through his olive canvas jacket. “This jacket was a gift, you assholes!” David yelled as he blindly fired his pistol over the bar, not wanting to expose himself from cover. He had been given the jacket during his time with the illustrious Diamond Dogs, it was standard attire for new recruits, though David had grown rather attached to the durable outerwear.

“Havin’ a bit of trouble there, luv?” A chipper voice laced with a cockney accent spoke from beside David, prompting him to let out a yelp. A petite woman crouched beside him, a determined look on her face, brown hair styled up into several spikes. His eyes fell to the large device she wore on her chest, strapped over a bomber jacket, blue light shining from within it.

Where did she? David’s thoughts were interrupted by another burst of shots hitting the bar, obliterating what few glasses remained on the counter. “You could say that.” He dryly chuckled, glancing at two pistols she held in her hands. “Oh, good, I was about to say I don’t have a gun to lend you.” David smirked, if this woman wanted to kill him, she had ample time to do so.

“Any idea how many we’re up against?” The woman spoke, her voice still holding that cheery tone, despite the circumstances they found themselves in.

David shook his head, “Four, maybe five, didn’t get a good look before jumping back here.” The odds weren’t great, but he was confident that the two of them could make it work. Three guns were better than one, after all.

“Got a plan, hotshot?” The woman giggled, flashing a smile to David as he looked at her, shrugging.

“Figured I’d try shooting my way out, hardly the most original plan, but can’t beat the classics.” David preferred to keep the element of surprise on his side, hard to kill what you can’t see. His time with Diamond Dogs had taught him how important it was to keep all of your enemies’ senses in mind. The woman nodded, disappearing in a flash of blue light, before reappearing further down the bar, motioning for him to follow her lead. She blinked from cover, sprinting as she fired as their assailants, earning David a moment’s reprieve. He utilized this opportunity to lean over his cover, firing at two of the gunmen, aiming for their arms. Nonlethal always was preferable, if not a little more difficult. The woman seemed to share his idea, taking out the remaining guards with a mix of nonlethal shots and a quick punch.

That’s four… David thought as he lowered his pistol, maybe he had miscounted after all. “Look out!” The woman shouted, giving David enough warning to dodge out of the way, a large knife carving through the air where he just was. The final attacker swung at him again, stabbing directly at center mass. David caught the knife mere inches from his stomach, smacking it to the ground as he grabbed the man’s back, flipping him onto the ground. The man yelled as he hit the ground, David keeping a tight grip on his arm as he struggled to break free. The yells turned into groans as David applied force to the man’s elbow, dislocating it with a sickening snap. Pretty good. David chuckled as he released the man, plucking the knife from the floor as his assailant made an effort to retrieve it. “Good stuff, where’d you learn to do that?” The woman asked, her pistols holstered within her arm-guards.

“Few tricks I picked up from my old Boss, CQC is pretty handy.” David sighed as he retrieved his pistol from the ground, holstering it to his side. “Thanks for the help. I’m David, and you are?” He asked, extending his hand.

“Call me Tracer, luv!” She eagerly shook his hand, her energy was somehow contagious, forcing David to smile gently. “Don’t worry about this lot, I’ll keep watch until the coppers arrive!” He had heard about the woman on the occasional holovid, Overwatch was similar to Diamond Dogs in how they acted as their own entity, recruiting the best and brightest, though their methods were under much more scrutiny than the PF’s.

“Thanks, I doubt they’d believe what happened if I told them. Until next time.” David waved, chuckling at the two-fingered salute Tracer offered in return. He let out a deep sigh as he exited the nightclub, his breath condensing in the cold winter air. Not the night he had expected when he left the hotel, but he did meet a lovely woman.


	3. Honky Tonk Woman

“Wow what a depressing ending.” Lena sighed as the credits rolled on the television, the final shot of the show reading a simple phrase. You’re gonna carry that weight. She groaned as she stretched her limbs, prompting a small chuckle from David as he pushed himself from the couch.

“I mean, it’s bittersweet, you know? Life continues on, but our pal Spike’s story is over-” David was cut off by Lena flopping onto his lap, forcing him back down onto the cushions. He shot an irritated glance down at her, his facade breaking as she let out a deep yawn. “Tired?” David asked, raising the pitch of his voice to make his teasing clear. Lena weakly nodded, extending her arms at him.

“Carry me.” David laughed as she pouted her lower lip, attempting to tug on his heartstrings. He shook his head, pushing Lena off his lap, only to be met by fierce resistance. “Please?” She pleaded, her arms tightly wrapped around David’s back, preventing him from pushing her off.

“Fine.” David chuckled, hooking one arm beneath her knees, the other placed on her back. His eyes glanced at the clock, their binge session had run on into the late hours of the night. A yawn escaped his lips as he stood up, holding tightly onto Lena, not wanting to drop the small pilot.

“My hero.” Lena cooed, nuzzling her face against David’s sweatshirt. He smiled as he carried her into their bedroom, a large king mattress sat atop a slim metal frame. He yawned again, prompting a giggle from Lena. “Sounds like I’m not the only one who’s tired.” David smirked as he neared the bed, intent on dropping Lena from his arms onto the mattress. He looked down at the woman curled up in his arms, the sight of her snuggled up to his chest was almost enough to change his mind, almost. The yelp from the petite Brit as she fell onto the mattress was replaced by David’s bellowing laughter. Despite how tired she was before, Lena was wide awake now. “Oh, is that what we’re playing?” Lena glared up at David, plotting her revenge.

“Sorry, I’m sorry.” David spoke between laughs, wheezing at his own prank. “I just couldn’t resist-” His apology was cut short as he was pulled down towards the mattress. Lena had grabbed hold of his belt, using it as leverage to bring David down to her level. The pair rolled for a brief moment, ending with Lena laying on top of David. They each paused for a moment, staring into each other’s eyes. “Lena, I-” David was cut off again as her lips pressed against his, the faint taste of cinnamon lingering after their mouths had parted.

The couple stared at each other again, breathing heavily as their faces sat inches apart. David winced as Lena’s hand traced its way down his torso before fiddling with his belt buckle. “Are we really doing this?” David asked, his breath becoming shaky. Lena nodded as began to remove his belt, immediately setting to work on the zipper of his jeans.

“Yeah, luv. Get ready for the night of your life.” Lena giggled, leaning back in, eager for a second kiss.

“Yes ma’am.” David smirked, hungrily returning the gesture.


	4. Orange Looks Better on Her

David groaned as he slipped into the tight orange spandex, the material stretching as he pulled the pants up to his waist. He and Lena had agreed to swap outfits for a brief moment, mostly to see what they each looked like wearing their better half’s outfit. Lena had clearly gotten the better end of the deal, David’s rather plain outfit would look fine on her, if a little large. “I can’t believe I agreed to this shit.” He sighed, slipping into a pair of white sneakers he kept for working out. The iconic crocs of the speedster wouldn’t fit him, and the spandex was stretched to its end already. He chuckled as he slipped into a white t-shirt before grabbing Lena’s flight jacket from the bed. The leather was distressed from years of usage, a few patches had been ironed onto the shoulders, most notably the logo of The Slipstream. The aircraft was what gave Lena her powers over time, albeit at the cost of not being anchored within his own timeline. He felt a tinge of sadness as he remembered the incident, he hadn’t been part of Overwatch during the accident, though he had heard rumors of what transpired. The sadness faded as he slipped his arms into the sleeves, smiling as the faint scent of Lena’s perfume wafted into his nose.

David glanced at himself in the mirror, the jacket looked more like a crop top, and there was little hope that he’d be able to zip it up. He laughed at the sight, a hint of redness crossing his cheeks as he realized how much worse he looked than Lena did in this outfit. He sighed as he opened the bedroom door, Lena was already changed and waiting in the living room. He braced himself for the inevitable laughter that would accompany his reveal, Lena was hardly one to stifle her reactions. He looked at her as she sat on the couch, his face reddening further as she tried in vain to contain her laughter. “You… You look great, luv, really!” Lena spoke between laughs, holding her stomach as she rolled on the couch. David’s canvas jacket was much to large for her, almost completely hiding her within it. She wore a pair of her own jeans, along with some black boots, mimicking his usual attire. David stood there in silence, his face beet red, simply watching Lena continue to roll in laughter before him.

David’s eyes shot towards the door as it opened, widening with shock as McCree stumbled into the room. “Guys, the movie’ll be ready in about-” The cowboy paused, staring in utter shock at the sight before him. The room was dead silent, the three Overwatch agents staring at one another. McCree wheezed heavily, nearly shaking the room with his bellowing laughter as he backed out of the room, shutting the door behind him. David’s face was as hot as the beating sun outside, and as red as Morrison’s when he was on another tirade about work ethic. Lena burst into laughter again, pulling David into a hug as he slumped down besides her on the couch, his eyes staring into the distance. Maybe swapping outfits wasn’t such a good idea after all.


	5. AU: Talon's Alliance

David sat on the edge of the helicopter as it flew towards the Talon outpost. Diamond Dogs had gotten quite a bit of outside help when establishing themselves as the de-facto PF. The Boss’ goals aligned quite well with those of Talon, and the partnership between the two organizations was beneficial to both halves. He reached into his pocket, withdrawing an electronic cigar, the R&D team called it The Phantom Cigar. Its namesake was the very pain it sought to combat, the phantom pain that amputees felt from their severed limbs. The mixture of herbs did wonders to relax the muscles, and any pain that managed to appear through the nonexistent nerves was severely reduced. He brought his iDroid up to the end of the cigar, another treat from the boys in R&D. The device projected a display from within it that could be used to call in support, read through dossiers, it even had an MP3 player built in. The Phantom Cigar was useless without the iDroid, the device could create a small digital flame that acted as a sort of DRM for the cigar, making sure that it was useless to anyone without access to Diamond Dogs equipment. David took a long drag of the substance, exhaling a billowing cloud of smoke into the air as they began to reduce their altitude. The Talon base was close, and he had been sent as a representative to make sure their arrangement was as solid as ever. He wiggled the fingers at the end of his left arm, the matte gray metal emitting a satisfying click as he stretched his digits. He was originally provided a standard prosthetic, much like The Boss’ iconic red and black replacement, though he was chosen to use a new experimental arm. Talon had supplied them with the schematics of their chronal accelerator, a device which gave limited control over an individual’s time. The device was originally quite large, requiring a harness for the user to properly wear it on their chest, but the combined resources of Talon and Diamond Dogs had made a breakthrough. A prosthetic arm could be constructed as a sort of miniature accelerator, and though it wouldn’t give the user the ability to blink or rewind, it was possible for the arm to utilize those skills. The arm could propel forward like the blink of a normal accelerator and could be recalled once it reached the desired target, bringing it and the arm back to the user. Sure, the range wasn’t fantastic, but it was infinitely more useful than a regular prosthetic. “ETA 5 minutes, get ready!” The pilot of the helicopter spoke into David’s comm.

The helicopter shook as it lowered to the ground, hovering a few feet from the landing pad below. David hopped out of the craft, grunting as he landed on the metallic surface. “Good luck down there, Morpho out!” The pilot spoke into David’s earpiece, Talon was adamant that they would return David in one of their own craft, eager to see the home base of the Diamond Dogs themselves. His quietly surveyed his surroundings, puffing a cloud of smoke into the air as he examined the trio of guards that were walking towards him. The two in the rear wore standard Talon attire, a black set of combat armor accompanied by a helmet with a balaclava weaved into it, providing protection and warmth. In the center was a smaller woman, a large device strapped to her chest, emitting a harsh red light from within. He recognized it as the original chronal accelerator, the same one that had been modified to work in his arm. She wore a pair of tight red spandex pants, a pair of machine pistols holstered at her waist. A black leather jacket and a pair of black running shoes completed her ensemble, though her hair was her most striking feature. Her chocolate locks had been styled up into a spiky pattern, looking wild, and yet somehow controlled.

“You must be David, pleasure to meet you.” The woman spoke with a thick British accent, extending her hand to him. “How’s the arm workin’?”

“Better than the last one, I can see why you still wear that thing, Tracer.” David took her hand, firmly shaking it, motioning for her to lead the way further into the base. Tracer turned, revealing a large Talon logo emblazoned onto the back of her jacket, they certainly weren’t the most subtle bunch. David wore a full-body suit that had originally been created for The Boss, though later iterations had some features removed in order to be mass produced for soldiers. The black fabric had Kevlar plates weaved inside of it, providing ample protecting without compromising mobility. Small stealth field generators had been built into the thighs to reduce the noise of footsteps, and a collar had been sewn on to provide a small amount of protection against shrapnel. The logo of the Diamond Dogs had been emblazoned on the right shoulder, a single diamond placed below the silhouette of a Rhodesian Ridgeback, gently glimmering in the light of the base.

“We’ve been working on something that I think you’ll find very interesting.” Tracer spoke, leading David down a narrow hallway, a large blast door sitting at the end. “This is just a prototype, but if its performance in simulations is to be believed, we have our ace in the hole.” Tracer continued, typing into the keypad next to the door. The door slowly slid open, revealing a massive hangar, a titanic bipedal battle-frame stood at the far end, surrounding by large towers of scaffolding. “We call it Sahelanthropus. With this, we’ll be able to fulfill your Boss’ will, and bring true peace to the world.” David stared up at the weapon, his cigar nearly falling from his mouth as he craned his neck upwards. “So, what do you think?” Tracer giggled, folding her arms across her chest.

“I think this will work perfectly.”


	6. Remembering the Past

David sighed as he glanced halfheartedly at the ocean below, his legs dangling from the shuttle into the harsh winds. His thoughts turned back to the mission that had started his desertion from Diamond Dogs, the mission where he saw The Boss’ true colors. He had been assigned to work with The Boss on an extraction mission, their targets were two former members of their PF who had been captured. The intel they held on them was extensive, this wasn’t a rescue driven by altruism, rather, The Boss was adamant that they must be silenced to keep themselves safe. His closest advisers had recommended that the targets be saved, they were just kids, after all. The knot in his stomach grew as he recalled the gruesome events of the extraction, neither of the kids were in good shape. Boss had gone in alone, it was easier to sneak in when you only had to worry about yourself, and David was proficient as a medic, he was too valuable to lose if the targets needed to be patched up. The first child, Chico, had been tossed aboard the chopper while Boss went back into the base, attempting to locate the second. Chico had not been treated well by his captors, his time in the Cuban prison camp was far from comforting. Bolts had been attached to his Achilles tendons, prevent him from walking any distance further than a few feet. Various wounds covered his body, which David went to work treating, applying bandages and sutures to the young boy. The helicopter flew close to the cliff faces of the base, The Boss leaped inside, the second target hung around his shoulders. The grizzled soldier pushed Chico out of the way, laying Paz on the bench, motioning for David to go to work. Chico made his way over to her side, noticing how much blood stained her shirt. He pulled up the fabric, exposing two scars that had been sloppily stitched shut. David withdrew a pair of scissors from his pouch, Chico had gotten off rather easily, Paz had been implanted with a bomb, a gift from their captors.

David shook himself back to reality, not wanting to relive the gruesome extraction of the bomb. He could still see it clearly, a small plastic explosive covered with a peace symbol. Even if his time with The Boss had led to some dark places, there was never a shortage of melodrama. He glanced over to his left, smiling as Tracer plopped down beside him, her legs joining his in the air. “Daydreamin’, luv?” Tracer chirped, her personality as vibrant as ever. David paused for a moment, pondering whether or not he should relay the details of his time with Diamond Dogs to her.

“Something like that.” David chuckled, pushing away the memories he still held onto. Tracer leaned against him, laying her head on his shoulder, the smile that he wore now genuine. There was a time and a place to tell her about Diamond Dogs, but this wasn’t it. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close, intent on living in the moment rather than holding onto the past.


	7. Self-Sacrifice

“I’m telling you, something seems off about this mission, luv. Sure, we’ve been fighting Talon, but never on a scale like this, I’m worried.” Lena spoke as she kept pace with David. Winston had spoken to the Overwatch team about a full out assault on a Talon base, apparently there was some valuable intel on their Reaper that could lend them the edge in their constant struggle. They were to establish a foothold near the base, Torbjorn and Symmetra would be in charge of their defensive perimeter, with Bastion and Winston providing some extra support. Most of the other agents would be on the assault team, which included David and Lena.

“I know, something about it just seems wrong. But don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.” David chuckled, pulling Lena into a hug, smiling as she embraced him. The pair made their way into the shuttle, David turning back as the ramp began to close shut behind him. He took in the sights of Gibraltar one last time, curious as to why this mission had such an air of despair around it. He sat down besides Lena, shrugging it off as nerves, an assault like this was hardly his expertise. His posture relaxed as he settled into the seat, staring out of the window as the shuttle lifted off towards the Talon base.

* * *

David sighed as he withdrew a narrow device from his right pocket, a ‘gift’ he had gotten from Diamond Dogs before he had left. It was called a Phantom Cigar, apparently the mix of herbs within it were able to help numb the pain that amputees felt, dull the sensation of nerves that were no longer there. He placed the device in his mouth, twisting the end of it to ignite the substance within, a modification that Winston had helped him with. If there was a time to use the cigar, it was now. He let out a long groan as he glanced over to his left arm, trapped beneath a pile of debris. Any sensation in his limb was long gone, replaced only by the stinging pain of the weight forcing his shoulder down. A long trail of smoke floated from David’s mouth as he took a drag of the cigar, his posture relaxing as the herbs kicked in. His gaze turned skyward, watching the Overwatch shuttle soar away into the distance, smiling as he watched it disappear. He had made the rather rash decision of being the one to save the shuttle from nearby anti air fire, though Talon was prepared for his bravado. A trap had been set, the anti-air turret was set to detonate with a proximity bomb, anyone who got close would set it off. A soldier had been manning the turret, resigned to his fate, he was being used as bait to take an Overwatch agent with him. David’s eyes flashed towards what little remained of the Talon soldier, an explosion was hardly the most humane way to go, but at least it was fast. He smiled as he slumped against the concrete, his thoughts turning to Lena, to the time they’d spent together. “I told you I wouldn’t let anything happen.” David roughly spoke, taking another drag of the cigar. The pain had all but faded, and it was difficult to feel much of anything, his smoking was more muscle memory than anything else. He sighed as he turned his head towards the sun, closing his eyes as he let the gentle rays warm his face, resigned to his own fate. There was beauty in the finality of it all, and in a way it was ironic, to succumb to the same wound that his old mentor had survived. The Boss had always said he was pretty good, but it looks like he wasn’t good enough.


	8. A Replacement Vessel

David glanced around nervously, he was surrounded on all sides by an impenetrable darkness, not a speck of light pierced through the foggy veil. “What the fuck…” He spoke, exasperated, the last thing he remembered was passing out after noticing his arm had been crushed under a pile of debris. He glanced down at his left arm, his flesh seemed to stop just below the elbow, evidently he had lost his arm, much like The Boss. His breathing became shallow as his eyes continued down his arm, a twisted mess of black metal swarmed below his elbow, their forms contorting into a makeshift arm. He hesitated for a moment, gently probing the mass with his right hand, the swarm parting at his touch, allowing his hand to pass through unharmed.

“Do not fear, we mean you no harm.” A rough voice spoke, seeming to project from every direction at once. “Quite the opposite, in fact.” The voice’s tone shifted as the swarm of metal departed from David’s arm, forming a large cloud before him. A long figure emerged as the cloud dispersed, David immediately recognized it as Gabriel Reyes, or rather his persona, Reaper. The cloaked figure stood imposingly, stopping a few feet from David, his expressionless mask peering deep into his soul.

“What do you want?” David’s voice trembled, he had heard the stories of what Reaper did to his victims, though he prayed he’d never experience it first hand. Reaper seemed to shimmer as he examined David, flashes of the same metallic swarm that covered David could barely be made out in the darkened arena.

“We seek to come to an agreement, we will merge together for survival.”

“Survival?”

“Much like this vessel, you have succumbed to your wounds. We have entered your body, repairing the damage done to your systems.” The voice trailed off as Reaper reached towards his mask. The matte white skull dispersed into a cloud of black smoke, replaced by the haunting visage of Gabriel Reyes. His skin was pale, his eyes sunken deep into his skull, despite the movements of Reaper, his body appeared very much dead. “This vessel has served us well, though it’s usefulness is at an end. We seek to grant you the same gift, convergence between our minds.”

David paused, carefully eyeing the contorted form. “Why did he agree to this, what did he get in return?” He had never learned the reasons behind Reyes’ defection, though his curiosity never truly faded away.

“There is no choice. Without our assistance, you will die, but we will find another vessel if you are unwilling. Our strength is undeniable, the world trembles at mere mentions of our name, we offer you that same strength.” Reaper dispersed into a cloud, amalgamating behind David. He rapidly spun around, expecting to find the pale visage of Reyes, but a familiar face stared back at him. The Boss’ pale blue eye pierced David’s soul, the shrapnel from his forehead shimmering with the same frequency that Reaper once had. “We offer you revenge. You will kill for us, and we will assist you. His life will be yours, but only if you accept our gift.” David stared bewildered at the phantom that stood before him, a perfect replica of the man who had mentored him, who had betrayed him. His form dispersed again, reappearing ten yards away, creating a massive robotic frame. “You will be able to stop what he has planned, to save the ones you love.” The frame shimmered for a moment, remaining in place as another cloud appeared at its base, a perfect replica of Tracer emerged from within. David felt his heart drop as his eyes locked with hers, there truly was no choice offered to him, accept, or die. “What is your answer?” The voice echoed around the room, dispersing the robotic frame, the apparition of Tracer slowly walking towards David.

David felt a massive lump in his throat, ever fiber of his being screamed at him to reject the offer, to fade away like so many others had before him. “I accept.” He whispered, tears falling from his eyes as Tracer’s phantom smiled at him, mimicking her mannerisms perfectly.

“We will return when this vessel has failed us. A small trace of us has been left within you, a safety measure in case you attempt to run.” The blackness began to close in around David, the phantom’s visage slowly dispersing along with it. “We will return.” Blackness was all that remained as David began to fall through the air, screaming in vain as he hurtled towards some unseen ground.

* * *

David screamed as he threw his body forward, panting heavily as his sweat-covered body panned the room. He recognized the room he was in, it was the medical bay back at Gibraltar. The curtain around his bed parted, Mercy appeared before him, her angelic presence a welcome reprieve from the nightmare he had lived through. “It’s okay, I’m here.” Her soft voice spoke, placing a hand on his shoulder, gently leaning him back against the mattress.

“What happened?” David asked between ragged breaths, his green eyes staring into the distance. Mercy sighed as she walked towards the foot of the bed, her shoulders slumping for an instant before he bedside manner took over.

“We managed to find you shortly after the mission ended, Lena was adamant that we didn’t leave you behind.” David smiled, that sounded just like her, stubborn as ever. Mercy let out a long sigh, her shoulders tensing up for a moment. “We couldn’t save your arm, I’m afraid, but a prosthetic is already being fashioned. Torbjörn and Winston are hard at work as we speak.” She paused, letting out another quick sigh. “There’s something else. Somehow, a pierce of shrapnel embedded itself into skull, stopping just after it pierced your cerebral cortex. We cannot remove it, otherwise it would risk causing a brain hemorrhage, I’m sorry.”

“Show me.” David spoke, prompting Mercy to nod as she retrieved a small mirror, holding it in front of him. The shrapnel had impaled itself within the right side of his forehead, eerily similar to the wounds of his old mentor. His eyes flashed for a moment, noticing a faint shimmer on the black metal that protruded from his head. Was that really just a nightmare?

“With some therapy, you should get used to your prosthetic rather quickly. And thankfully the shrapnel wasn’t too large, so it won’t impact performance in the field.” David nodded, smiling as she placed the mirror on the beside table. Recovery wouldn’t be immediate, but he was hardly bedridden.

* * *

“You ready, luv?” Lena called from the hallway, prompting a chuckle from David as he styled his hair in the bathroom mirror. His right arm nimbly styled his hair into a sweep towards the right of his head, the small shrapnel from his forehead had become less obtrusive as he became acquainted to it. His left arm was placed on the bathroom counter, he had leaned early on that using a metallic prosthetic to style hair was just asking for strands to get caught within it. The matte gray arm had been fashioned by Torbjörn, with schematics provided by Winston. Overwatch had been quite generous in the replacement, allowing room for modifications to be implemented later down the road. He stared at himself in the mirror for a moment, noticing the same faint shimmer he had seen the first day he awoke. “Luv?” Lena called again, closer this time.

David shook himself back to reality, turning to join his better half. “Coming!” He shouted, making his way down the hall. Lena stood in her usual jacket, a pair of jeans and canvas sneakers completed her ensemble. This would be their first date outside of Gibraltar since his accident, a welcome break from the usual hustle and bustle of life on the Overwatch base. David wrapped his left arm around her, she had been adamant about how much she liked the replacement, repeatedly mentioning how stylish it looked. He glanced down at Lena, a beaming smile painted on her face. “Ready?” David asked, opening the door from their shared quarters. Lena nodded, leaning in towards him, the couple chuckling as they shut the door behind them.


End file.
